


To Be Brave

by afteriwake



Series: nongentorum [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Conversations, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Molly Stays, Morning After, Near Relapse, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock Asks For Help, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Sherlock is Alone, Sherlock is a Mess, Sherlock-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 01:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6591433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock reaches out to Molly one evening when he thinks he’s going to relapse, after she’s washed her hands of him, and the evening takes a turn neither of them expected. The morning after, she asks if he wants her to leave, and his answer surprises her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Brave

**Author's Note:**

> So this is another fic for my "nongentorum" series, except I picked the sentence this time (“ _'Do you want me to leave?'_ ”) for a ship that **mischiefphoenix** gave me, Sherlock/Molly, for _something_ that has been lost to the ages in my Tumblr inbox. I had a lot of fun with this and I don't think I've _quite_ written this scenario in 300 Sherlolly fics before, so yay for that! I hope you all enjoy it.

“Do you want me to leave?”

He hadn’t even realized that she was awake. He had been awake for hours, just holding her close. He hadn’t planned on the night before happening. He hadn’t planned on getting hit with such a strong desire for heroin that it had nearly overpowered him, and he hadn’t planned on reaching for his mobile and pulling up _her_ contact and begging _her_ to come over. They were barely talking these days. After the incident in her labs and Janine, after Christmas and Magnussen's, after the overdose on the plane, she had said she was going to wash her hands of him and she’d pretty much done that.

And he’d let her.

She’d left Barts, left London and gone to Cambridge to teach, which he’d heard suited her well. And he’d done passably well with her replacements, though to be honest he was really just drifting. He’d agreed to get clean and sober but he hadn’t really cared about it.

It hadn’t really mattered, he supposed. Nothing really did, he realized, because he’d let something precious slip through his fingers. But he had his cases, he had John and Mary, he had his goddaughter. Just because _she_ had washed her hands of him didn’t mean he didn’t have things to live for. So he tried to make his life have some semblance of meaning without her in it.

But then last night it all threatened to come crashing down around him and he caved and called her.

And surprisingly, she came.

He hadn’t known what to expect. He wasn’t sure if she would slap him or embrace him or yell or cry. Nine hundred different scenarios ran through his head, it seemed, each worse than the last, and when Mrs. Hudson let her in she sat next to him, took one of his hands in hers and put her other arm around him and then tried to lay down next to him. Slowly he uncurled, letting her stretch out, and soon enough he embraced her, burying his nose in her hair, keeping her close.

He was not one for keeping people close. He pushed people away more than he didn’t but right then, right there, he needed closeness. He needed comfort.

But more than that, he needed _her_.

The kiss had come out of somewhere, he wasn’t sure where. It wasn’t passionate and hot and out of control, but soft and gentle and uncertain, more questioning than anything else. There was a sense of “Is it all right to do this?” to the kiss, and the answer was yes, yes, unequivocally yes. Once the answer was understood, then it became tender, then passionate.

Soon he forgot about the need for the drug and all he felt was a need for her. He needed to feel her, touch her skin, feel the warmth and softness beneath her fingertips. He needed to taste her lips until he drank them dry, needed to taste every inch of her body, needed to worship her as she deserved. He needed to do what he should have done so long ago, had he been a braver man. A smarter man.

They made their way to his bedroom, and he slowly undressed her, reveling in the sight of seeing the layers of clothing removed, as though he was seeing the most beautiful puzzle to solve and he was watching each piece fall perfectly into place. And he watched her face as she undressed him, the heat in her eyes as she explored him with her eyes and hands before she kissed him deeply.

And then he took her to bed and made it a point to show her, in every way he could, that he cared for her. Adored her. Needed her. Perhaps even loved her. He felt such strong emotions towards her he wasn’t sure he could tell her. He would try, and he would try as often as he could until he could say the words out loud, but for tonight he could show her, over and over, make her moan and whimper and beg and shout his name until she finally had to sleep.

Until she had to leave again. Until he had to admit that he had made a mistake in not fighting to ask her to stay before, in not apologizing, in not admitting he was wrong.

Until now.

He moved his hand to her arm, stroking it gently, before sliding it to her waist and pulling her closer, nuzzling her neck slightly. “To be quite honest, I don’t want you to leave here ever again. I don’t want you to go back to Cambridge. I want you to move back to London and come back to Barts. I miss you and I want _this_ all the time.”

“I want this too,” she said quietly, choking back tears. She turned, burying her face in his chest and he began stroking her back. “Oh, Sherlock. Why now?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.

“Why couldn’t you say it before?”

“Because I was a coward,” he said, tipping her face up. “And I thought I had lost you forever. But I needed you, and you came, and I had hope. And I decided I should be brave.” He leaned in and kissed her softly. “So be brave too?”

She nodded. “All right,” she said before kissing him again.


End file.
